


These Moments

by MinervasTorch



Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:04:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5472299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinervasTorch/pseuds/MinervasTorch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One day, you'll meet the people who understand you, who get that that busy brain of yours has been gifted to you for a reason. Those moments with them will make it all worthwhile."</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rana Eros (ranalore)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranalore/gifts).



For as long as he can remember, Chris has been anxious.

Anxious about what other people think about him. Anxious about auditions. Anxious about what breakfast cereal to buy.

 _Anxious_.

Sometimes, it gets too much. The thoughts running around in his head turn into worry, worry, worry. They turn and twist and bend until they're all distorted and running into one another, until there's no stopping it. The pressure in his head, his bones, his blood. The worries - small on their own, but a huge, hulking monster when twisted together - explode into a million sharp shards, piercing him from the inside out.

When he was little, he'd curl up into his mother's side, and she'd sing to him and stroke his hair. But when he was at school, older kids would laugh and tease the crybaby who had to put his head between his knees and take deep breaths to calm down. But it was the only thing that did any good, if his Mom or Dad or sister weren't there to take care of him. 

_Crybaby...Crybaby...what's got your crying now, Crybaby?_

Their taunts made him feel pathetic. Weak.

Although his father never said anything of this sort, Chris was sure his father looked at him sometimes and thought, " _Why isn't he tougher than this?_ "

He hated the thought of embarrassing his father. He loved his father. Wanted to be just like him. Chris wanted to be strong. Bulletproof.

 _One day,_ Chris thought to himself. _I'll beat this. I'll be strong. I'll be confident and clever and witty and no one will ever laugh at me. And I'll prove this for myself. For me._

"This will all make sense when you're older, sweetheart," his mother tells him, soothingly. "One day, you'll meet the type of people who understand you, who get that that busy brain of yours has been gifted to you for a reason. Those moments with them will make it all worthwhile."

Chris wanted, so badly, to believe her.

But his anxiety followed him everywhere, even into his dreams.

It got to the point when he was almost afraid to sleep.

But his father puts him to bed, tells him that he needs his rest. Chris is too afraid to admit to his father that he doesn't want to be alone. That he's frightened of the monsters under his bed, in his wardrobe, in his mind.

The anxiety surrounds him, a cloak of despair and exhaustion. He drops off.

Cold eyes blaze, fingers twitch, and a weapon is brought to his face. But Chris is not surprised. He’s been after Chris for a long, long time. Chasing, hunting. Running after him and around in circles and in front of him. Tracking him like an animal. Waiting for him to falter, to make a wrong move and expose himself so he could take him down.

He can't hide, not from an opponent that knows him so well. Despite this, he appears to Chris in a form that it not his own. Chris wonders why he does, when Chris knows what he truly looks like.

He laughs, and stabs into Chris' abdomen with a blade of fire and ice.

Chris screams in pain. Screams and screams, insides on fire.

After that, Chris' parents let him stay with them in their room for a few weeks.

Chris would never admit this to the kids at school.

But he feels so much safer with them around.

* * *

As Chris gets older, he learns to control his anxiety, more and more, until he can almost say that he controls it, not that it controls him.

 _Almost_.

The thoughts still tangle up in his head, going way too fast. But he learns how to get through it, to spot it early, to head it off at the pass.

He discovers acting. He gets cast in school plays. He learns to project his voice, to sing, to dance.

The kids who used to mock him are now applauding him from the audience.

It feels _amazing_.

He speaks to his parents. He doesn't want to go to college. He wants to give acting a go.

His parents frown. This was not what they were expecting, what they were hoping for, what they'd planned.

But they relent. Agree he should give it a go.

He gets an agent. He goes to his auditions. He starts to get roles. In _real_ movies.

He's thrilled. It's everything he'd ever dreamed of.

But then it starts to get bigger. And bigger. It gets away from him. People know his name, take his photograph, want this autograph.

It's so much _more_ than he expected.

And then he gets  _Captain America_. 

It goes from zero to a thousand miles an hour in what seems like just a moment. He don't know if he can take it.

 _I should've known this would happen!_ he berates himself.  _How many times have you heard movie starts say you never appreciate your anonymity until you lose it? Idiot!_

The dream returns. The faceless opponent, stalking him in the dark forest. Chasing him, hunting him. Impaling him.

Chris wakes up in a cold sweat.

Every morning before going to the set, he stares himself down in the mirror.  _You can do this. There are young actors who'd kill for this opportunity, and you're psyching yourself out over some stupid dream. Pathetic._

But he's exhausted. The weight of carrying a film people have waited generations to see is too much pressure for one person to bear.

He can't go on like this. He has to quit, for his own sanity.

And then, he meets the new guy. The guy who is to play Steve's best friend, brother-in-arms, better half.

"Hi, I'm Sebastian," he says, extending his hand. A hint of...something? A faint accent worn down by time, maybe?...curls around his words.

Chris can't believe his eyes. This guy is  _beautiful_. He's tall, with dark hair and blue eyes and the sharpest cheekbones Chris thinks he's seen on a man.

"Nice to meet you," Chris says, hoping his feelings don't display on his face. "I'm Chris."

"I'm looking forward to working with you," Sebastian says. "I really liked your work in  _Sunshine_."

"I'm glad you've seen one of the good films I've been in!" Chris grins; he can't help it. He's not used to people having actually  _seen_ the few bits of work he's done that he's actually proud of.

Sebastian smiles at him. Chris notices that one of Sebastian's front teeth is ever-so-slightly crooked, a tiny 'imperfection' in an otherwise perfect face. Sebastian's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles and Chris' stomach does a most unsettling flip-flop.

Chris' mother's voice, from long ago, floats up in his mind. _"One day, you'll meet the type of people who understand you, who get that that busy brain of yours has been gifted to you for a reason. Those moments with them will make it all worthwhile."_

Chris smiles. He thinks he knows what she meant.


End file.
